Page 51
C al walked in, his mouth no more than a thin, flat, grim line. He nodded at me, an acknowledgment that he’d found what I suspected; then he leaned close to Nonna Ursula and kissed her cheeks. “How’s my beautiful grandmother?”
“I’m better,” she proclaimed, then leaned back from him and searched his face with her gaze. “You seem distracted.”
He put his hands on my shoulders. “I must take Rosie from you. We have much to discuss.”
Nonna Ursula smirked. “Among the disorder of recent days, you two lovers must grab every opportunity for . . . conversation.”
I tried to smile, to act as if romance rather than tragedy directed our actions.
Nonna continued, “Frst, I wanted to tell you what happened while I was unconscious.”
Cal and I both ceased our departure and listened intently.
“What I remember is, I was very close to death. So close, I could smell the flowers my husband used to bring me. I heard his voice. As he had done so many times before, he vowed love for me. I opened my eyes. It was night, and dark in the room, and I saw him, alive and smiling, a glowing form. He told me . . . I couldn’t come yet.
I have more to do.” She subsided with a sentimental smile.
“I could have given up mint and the rosemary, and if I never smelled lavender again”—she gestured as if pushing it away—“I would be perfectly happy. When you’re my age, even sneezing hurts.
But you need me, Rosie, to advise you in your role as princess. ”
“I do, Nonna.” I meant it. The simple betrothal had stirred ancient grudges, and already violent death followed.
Cal kissed her cheek. “Relax now, Nonna. Gather your strength. You’re safe and well protected.”
With that, Nonna fell asleep as suddenly as a babe. Old Maria rushed to cover her with a blanket—honestly, the autumn day was warm, but one could never convince the old woman her mistress needed fresh air, not stifling heat.
Old Maria followed Cal and me, trailed by Tommaso, from the bedchamber and onto the great walk.
She darted in front of Cal and stopped him with a curtsy.
“My prince, Pasqueta hasn’t returned to her duties.
I beg you, tell me where she is and what she’s done.
” She sounded scornful and accusatory, but I thought her eyes shifted as if she feared . . . something.
“Look not for her return this day, nor any day ever again. Pasqueta has seen her last sunrise.”
Old Maria straightened and stared at Cal, her dark eyes narrowing. “That man! She said she saw the ghost, and she shivered, but I knew better. Stupid girl! He got her, didn’t he?”
I glanced at Cal. His gaze had fixed on Old Maria in penetrating interest. I asked, “When did Pasqueta tell you about this man?”
“She talked to you first, my future princess. I had to coax her to tell me what she’d told you.
I told her no ghost could do to Princess Ursula what he had done, that it was a real man, a man who breathed and lurked in the palace and plotted to kill us all!
” Old Maria was so pleased to be proved right.
“Did you mention her fear to anyone?” Cal asked.
“Of course not!” Old Maria’s voice grew ever louder, an elderly woman making her point.
“When she whimpered, I dragged her out of Princess Ursula’s bedchamber and scolded her for her craven fear, while Princess Ursula was locked in battle with death’s cold hands.
She fled, weeping, and I never saw her again.
” She saw Tommaso had kept his duty to me and waited, arms crossed, eyes scanning the area for ghosts or men or any danger, and said, “Well! I’d better return and protect Princess Ursula from more mysterious men in cloaks.
” She swept away, oblivious to the upset she left behind.
“The villain who attacked Nonna Ursula overheard Old Maria talking too loudly to Pasqueta. That’s why he knew she’d seen him.” I lifted my hands in helpless despair. “You found Pasqueta? Under the rosemary hedge?”
He gave two abrupt nods.
“Elder said the killer had been in a rage.”
“Rage or brutality, it’s hard to tell the difference. We’ve sent for a layer out of the dead. She comes anon and will put Pasqueta to rest.”
“Was Yorick’s skull intact?”
“The skull . . . had been battered by whatever tool struck Pasqueta down, by whatever tool struck Nonna Ursula down. Bloody marks streaked and marred the bone, but the bone didn’t break. Yorick triumphed.”
I laughed in a like triumph, then noted Cal’s grim countenance and sobered. “You believe the man who killed Pasqueta has failed twice now, in his quest to kill Nonna Ursula and to batter Yorick’s skull to symbolic crumbs of humanity. You fear that he’ll rampage further in frustration and fury.”
“In these assaults, I perceive a frenzy of guilt and desperation yielding to nothing but the finality of death. He’s loose in the palace, Rosaline, and I fear for us all.”
Yes, Cal was right and my laughter had been foolish in the extreme. “Where’s the skull?”
“Holofernes took it and is cleaning the dirt and blood from its bony countenance before bringing it back to Nonna. She doesn’t need to know the adventures Yorick has pursued since she used him in her séance.” To Tommaso, he said, “Stay with the dowager princess. Lady Rosaline will be safe with me.”
Tommaso looked to me; he hadn’t yet recovered from my recent encounter with Baal.
Cal got the message. “If that’s acceptable to Lady Rosaline?”
“Tommaso, if you would stay with Princess Ursula, it would relieve my mind. As you’ve probably overheard”—how could he not?
—“we fear the man who attacked her came from within the palace, and you, who were not at the palace that night, have become our trusted mainstay. With her return to consciousness, we must be doubly vigilant, and I do vow to you, I’ll be careful and wise. ”
“As my lady commands.” Tommaso bowed, took up guard at the doorway of Nonna Ursula’s suite, and inspected the passing servants until they were shied away.
Cal offered his arm, and when I placed my fingertips on it, he led me toward a wide-entranced chamber with tall double doors. “He’s not happy with his new charge,” he said.
“He was sent to guard me,” I reminded him.
“Perhaps he fears that in the right circumstances, you’re neither careful nor wise.”
He ruffled my feathers. “Are you referring to my trip from the palace to Casa Montague?”
“Those were the right circumstances,” he agreed.
Point made, and gracefully too. It would behoove me to remember his talents as a diplomat.
He gestured me ahead of him into a lofty room.
A desk dominated the space. Doors stood open to Cal’s beloved garden, and ever vigilant of my reputation (or at least when it suited him), Cal did not shut the doors into the corridor.
Shelves housed scrolls and leather books, paintings of exotic flowers and statues that had been uncovered from Verona’s ancient ruins; here was the heart of Cal’s palace domain where he performed the podestà’s work.
I grieved for Pasqueta and feared what a fetid, writhing worm stew we would find when we uncovered the culprit, yet curiosity drew me to examine the contents of the books and the art Cal chose to enjoy while he worked.
While I wandered, he took the seat behind his desk. “Old Maria made our mission easy. All we have to do is find the man in the cape.”
The marble bust of a Roman general, crowned with a laurel leaf wreath, drew me, and I touched the jutting nose, marveling at the cool, smooth stone and the faint traces of paint around the eyes. “Every man wears a cape, as does every woman.”
Cal looked at me. Just looked at me.
“Oh. You were being ironic.” Being born into the loud, brash, romance-driven family did occasionally obscure the subtleties. “Nonna told Elder and me that although she can’t quite remember her attacker, she called him a man of the street.”
“‘A man of the street’? Who in the palace is a man of the street?”
“Men who fight in the streets and don’t die in the mud are men of the streets.
Your guards are now men of the streets.” I smoothed my hands over the gloriously decorated leather and wood binding on his newest book acquisition.
“The man was bent on silencing her and that he didn’t bother to conceal his face is telling.
It wasn’t an attack; it was a murder attempt. ”
Cal weighed my words and gave them respect. “You’re right. I don’t like to think of that . . . but yes. Her ruse of a séance succeeded too well and she almost died from it, and may yet if I don’t discover who attacked Nonna and killed my father, and if they’re the same person.”
I wasn’t startled to hear Elder say in my ear, “We are back where we started.”
Such a discouraging thought! “The answer is there, tantalizing us, waiting for us to see what’s right before our noses.”
Cal folded his hands on his desk and observed me with a cool gaze. “Are you talking to me or my father?”
I half smiled at him. “Yes.”
From the door, one of the footmen cleared his throat. “Prince Escalus, Lady Pulissena of the house of Acquasasso has arrived and requires attendance.”
Table of Contents
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- Page 51 (Reading here)
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